Your Darkest Hours
by xphile.1
Summary: Spoilerish fic that takes place during "The Magical Delights of Stevie Nicks" with Cordelia, Fiona, Myrtle, and Stevie. Fiona apologizes to Delia. Rated M for possible femslash (Myrona) in the next chapter - not sure yet!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Not my show or characters. Had to write this because the two scenes with Fiona and Delia in this episode made me sad.**

* * *

Cordelia Foxx had just finished destroying every viable item on the work table in her greenhouse amongst the backdrop of the eerie sounds of Myrtle's theremin. As the last shrieks emanated from her lungs, she collapsed on the floor, shards of glass embedding in her knees. In a twisted way, she appreciated the pain as it supported her theory of being worthless. Sobbing into her hands, Delia felt her existence crumble around her; her mother was beyond furious with her, she had insulted her Auntie Myrtle, her husband had committed several layers of betrayal against her, and her ability for visions was gone.

The enigmatic sounds from Myrtle's instrument ceased as the woman glided over to her, taking care not to step on the glass. It was simply too much for her to bear, seeing the girl fall apart before her very eyes. Myrtle intended to rouse Delia from feeling sorry for herself to a stance of determination, but perhaps the girl had been through too much for such an approach.

When Cordelia was a young girl, Myrtle would simply instigate her stubborn drive by the oldest trick in the book; reverse psychology. Tell the kid they would be better off cleaning toilet bowls for the rest of their lives and they'd simmer down and diligently finish their homework. Or in this case, tell them they'd be a great cruise ship hostess. But that didn't work, so she tried the angle of flat out telling her to toughen up already. Poor choice of words. Delia became a human tornado. The only other time Myrtle observed such a sight was when Fiona had laid into Delia after she revealed that she had eloped with Hank. Cordelia had nearly set the vast library of books on fire, but thanks to Myrtle's quick wit, the flames were contained to an unfortunate chair.

Then and now, the only thing that Myrtle knew would calm her "little bird" was contact. Myrtle crouched beside Cordelia, wrapping her arms around the young blonde's shoulders, drawing her close. "Delia, you know none of those things are true. You have _so_ much to offer this coven. I'm sure Fiona had a reason behind what she said." Whatever the reasons, Myrtle fully intended to find out. The entire secretive meeting situation going on with Marie had her on alert and a bit curious as well.

Cordelia clung to Myrtle, burying her face into the woman's chest as she wept, her body shaking with each wave of self-pity that coursed through her. "I wish she had stayed dead. Witch hunters or not." Her voice was cold but then cracked as she continued to cry.

"Well, you may get your wish sooner than you'd hoped." A sultry voice sounded from the entryway of the greenhouse as Fiona made her way inside, her breathing labored as she leaned against a stool near the door. "I'm...not doing so great."

"You haven't exactly picked the right person to care about you right now, _Fiona_." Cordelia hurriedly wiped the tears from her cheeks, pulling away from Myrtle.

"Delia," Fiona let out a heavy sigh, pushing her body up onto the stool. "Come here." A shaky hand outstretched, and Fiona leaned against the wall with obvious fatigue. Her tone was far different from earlier; it was softer, maternal even.

Myrtle helped Cordelia stand, a gloved hand encircling her elbow to steady her as she gasped and nearly toppled in pain due to the glass particles in her knees. With a grunt, Cordelia walked to Fiona's perch by the door, leaving Myrtle amidst the remains of her plants and potions. Not one to eavesdrop often, Myrtle rummaged for a broom and dustpan to start cleaning the results of Cordelia's rage.

Sniffing back the last of her tears, Cordelia paused a step away from Fiona's hand, looking at her mother warily. She had no reason to trust that the sinewy digits wouldn't crack against her reddened cheek again. The words that she had heard from the woman's lips accusing her of being hopeless and worthless churned inside her entire being until it was a roar that she could not ignore. Cordelia glared at Fiona's hand, arms coming upward to cross over her chest. "What?" Short and crisp, with no room for forgiveness, Delia lifted her gaze to Fiona's. She regretted the decision immediately as she saw the wounded look on her face, her eyes watering.

"My Delia, I'm...so very sorry." Fiona's hand finally dropped to her lap weakly when she realized Cordelia would not be reciprocating with her own hand. "Darling, I'm just...so upset. He could have killed _you_. Killed all of us." Pausing to draw in a shuddering breath, Fiona dragged her fingertips under her eyes. "You're _not_ worthless. I just wanted to keep you out of this...madness. I'm trying to keep you safe. Lord knows I don't have the best track record." Her head canted to the side and she rested it against the wall, both hands twisting on her lap. "You can think me a liar, but I didn't mean what I said. I love you, Delia." Fiona's voice lowered to a whisper, cracking at the last words.

With a tremble of her bottom lip, Cordelia closed the last bit of space between them and fell into Fiona, arms wrapping around her shoulders tightly. She desperately wanted to believe her mother's words, even if the earlier ones had torn her down. Something in the way Fiona had said she loved her, though, that was her undoing. The sniffling started again as Delia masked her face in Fiona's hair.

Fiona, still lethargic, folded an arm around Cordelia's waist, while her other hand dove into the stick straight tresses that graced her daughter's head. She kept her head pressed against her own, craning her neck slightly to leave a lingering kiss on Cordelia's temple. "I mean it, sweetheart," she whispered.

Cordelia tightened her hold on Fiona and then slowly released her, taking a step back. "I'm going upstairs...have to clean my cuts from the glass." She gestured to her right where Myrtle was still sweeping up the broken pieces of pottery and glass, along with various overturned plants. "I...I'm sorry, too. About Hank. If I had known..."

"No," Fiona cut Delia off sharply. "Stop. You didn't know. You couldn't have." Fiona lifted her right hand to brush her fingertips to Cordelia's cheek where she had struck her, and flinched inwardly when she saw the glint of fear in her daughter's eyes. "I'm so sorry, honey. I let my anger get the best of me."

Another whispered apology. Cordelia closed her eyes briefly, biting her bottom lip as she gave a nod of her head. Her mother seemed sincere in her words and mannerisms, but Cordelia was still afraid that Fiona was much like a loose cannon; emotions flailing off the charts due to the cancer, the chemo, and the Coven being targeted by witch hunters. This was all too much for her and she couldn't sort out what made sense at the moment. Cordelia felt a surging need to be alone with her thoughts, and was unsure whether to take her mother's apology to heart. "I'll be upstairs," she said quietly, shrugging away from Fiona's hand stroking her cheek so she could retreat from the greenhouse.

Rolling her head to the side to follow the younger woman's exit, Fiona sighed loudly. While in the process of turning her head back, her left cheek was met with a forceful slap from a hand. Mouth agape in shock, Fiona covered her cheek, looking at Myrtle, who suddenly stood in front of her. "What the hell?"

"You're an immoral selfish bitch, Fiona. You've wrecked that poor girl for the last time. She's not unbreakable; one day you will shatter her beyond repair." Myrtle stabbed the air with her index finger, only inches away from Fiona's face. "You better treat her the way she deserves to be treated or I'll make your life hell, Supreme or not."

"Jesus, I didn't know you took this mothering role so seriously," Fiona muttered, massaging the sting from her cheek with her hand. "I apologized to her, I'm sure you heard that much."

"Even still. I have half a mind to slap you again for the pain you've caused our poor Delia." Myrtle hovered close, hands settling on her hips.

"Go ahead," Fiona taunted with a slight tilt of her head, smirking at the eccentric woman.

"Well, if you insist." Myrtle simply smiled, sending an open palm hard against Fiona's cheek so that her head jostled. And then she braced for the Supreme's reaction.


	2. Chapter 2

When nothing happened there was a momentary feeling of relief, but then suspicion began to encroach Myrtle's feelings. Her hair had not been set on fire. She hadn't been thrown into the wall. She didn't even receive so much as a glare from Fiona. It was not quite what she had expected after slapping the woman once, let alone twice.

The smart from the smack on her cheek made Fiona's jaw twitch but she didn't falter in front of Myrtle. Fiona never dared to convey any trait that would indicate weakness in front of anyone, or at least she'd like to think so. "You're just like Delia. Powerless. Weak." Another smirk played on her lips as she shifted on her seat, one dark nylon enclosed leg sliding over the other as she crossed her legs at the knee. It was obvious that her body was struggling with fatigue as she slumped into the wall while trying to appear stoically pulled together.

Myrtle's hand, on a mission to deliver a powerful blow to Fiona's smug yet flawless visage, was intercepted with a surprisingly strong grip. Fiona's digits had snared Myrtle's skeletal wrist, curling tightly to restrain her mid-slap. "You're just as clueless as her if you don't realize that I'm trying to make her stronger so she can deal with this bullshit," Fiona said with a sneer. "And you'd do well enough to leave it alone. Lord knows you've done enough meddling over the years in our lives." Clenching her hand firmly around the bones, Fiona heaved Myrtle's arm away with all the strength she could muster.

Propelled back a step by the force of the shove, Myrtle let out a short laugh. "Make her stronger? How? By telling her she's worthless so that she feels she has nothing to offer anyone anymore?' Myrtle shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest as she paced back and forth a few steps in front of Fiona, mindful of the shattered glass on the floor. "You're the clueless one, Fiona. Selfish and only out to protect yourself. Obsessed with this 'true love' who will likely run for the hills at the first sign of your illness prevailing over your health." Speaking the final words with acidity, Myrtle ceased pacing just in front of the woman, facing her straight on, unafraid.

"She's not worthless. She just needed a little kick to realize that there is more to her life than doing whatever she wants to try and go 'against' me. I may have been a little harsher than I intended, but I needed her ire to be cranked up a few notches." Still propped against the wall, Fiona shifted so she could cross her arms over her chest. "Deep down, she understands the whole damn point behind it. I need her to be strong now more than ever. I need her to be a goddamn _witch_." A sigh passed through her lips as she paused, more for drawing a breath than for the dramatics of it. "And you don't get to talk about love to me. You wouldn't understand true love if it slapped you in the face, Myrtle."

Canting her head back for a brief laugh at the comment, Myrtle then smirked at Fiona as she leaned toward her. "Oh, it has slapped me in the face many times from what I recall. But I wasn't the ignorant one." She uncrossed her arms, her left falling to her side as the right lifted, settling on Fiona's cheek; the polar opposite of the slap she had planted there moments before. "You've always looked in the wrong places for both love and alliance, Fiona. Bringing Marie here...what were you thinking? And I don't know who this new man is in your life, but I do know he will end up like the others. I already told you that he won't stay until the end." Myrtle took a moment to stroke her lace glove covered thumb over the smooth skin of her cheek. "You've always been ignorant to what is right in front of you. Your daughter, for instance." Her thumb grazed over Fiona's bottom lip, smearing what was left of her coral lipstick. "And me..." Whispering the last two words, Myrtle leaned in to place a lingering kiss to the corner of the woman's partially open mouth. "I'm going to check on Delia. Maybe you can take some time to think about how you want to live what's left of your life, Fiona. There are still people who love you here that wouldn't desert you when you need them most. Think about that, darling." A final swipe of her thumb was given to try and erase the coral smudge. Myrtle offered a hint of a smile before turning to move toward the doorway.

Fiona watched the woman turn to leave, her heart thudding and dispensing an onslaught of anxiety throughout her body. "Myrtle, wait." It was apparent that her breathing had increased in difficulty judging by the rapid movement of her chest, even with her arms crossed over it. When Myrtle turned to look at her questioningly, she found it nearly impossible to continue. Fiona had not planned on revealing her most guarded secret, but she had an inkling that Myrtle would end up being right about her misdirected quest for love. "I brought Marie here to help me to try and stay alive. I tried...to find eternal youth, only to discover...I have no soul," she rasped, the words sticking in her throat.

Myrtle's lip pulled to the side briefly and she gave a slight shake of her head. "I'm not surprised one bit. You didn't need to bring her here to tell you that." As she began to turn away again, she heard Fiona hurriedly stand from the stool, heels clacking onto the floor.

"No!" Fiona said loudly, advancing toward Myrtle before she had to sidetrack to the tall wooden table to use it to lean against. "You don't...understand," she wheezed, forearms bracing her body on the table.

Whirling around again, Myrtle half expected to see Fiona charging after her to slap her, but was surprised to see her using the table as a crutch.

"I...was told I have no soul. I'm nothing. I don't even belong here. This is why I need to be with him..." Fiona trailed off as she let out a sob, lowering her head as she stared down, unable to look at Myrtle.

_Well. Like mother, like daughter,_ Myrtle mused. Thankfully there was nothing left to break, at least not in the greenhouse. She shrugged her shoulders, and backpedaled toward the door. "Like I said...take some time to think about who's been there for you, Fiona."

Her shoulders shook as she cried in silence, sniffling every few moments, but when Fiona lifted her head, she saw that Myrtle had left her alone. She covered her face with both hands, letting the rest of the tears roll off her cheeks onto the wooden surface of the table. Myrtle hadn't truly listened to what she was trying to confess. Opening her heart, shit, if she still had one, had garnered little more than a snide remark. Still wounded by the guilt from yelling at Cordelia and feeling empty at the realization that she was a cold, soulless bitch, Fiona slowly felt the self pity and sadness drain from her body. It's not like she had to choose; he had left her once he realized she would never be granted immortality. She would become a decrepit skeleton soon. Collecting herself and letting the sway of anger take over, she sent a closed fist onto the table several times. "Goddamnit!" The curse was met by silence. Fiona wasn't much of a chess player but she felt the overwhelming foreshadowing that she was going to lose this match. She had run out of moves. What better way to soothe herself than by drowning her fears, guilt, and anger with alcohol?

* * *

The beautiful melancholy music drifted throughout the room, playing with the flames of the candles and shadows that were spawned from them. Fiona had just set her drink down to listen to her longtime friend Stevie Nicks play the piano once again, this time a more desirable setting with no one else in the audience aside from herself. The words shot ice through her veins and she essentially crumpled onto the white sofa, sitting sideways to watch her friend, her head resting against the back of the seat languidly.

_"Has anyone ever written anything for you?  
In all your darkest hours have you ever heard me sing?  
Listen to me now, you know I'd rather be alone  
Than be without you, don't you know?"_

Much like drops of rain rolled down the leafy greens in the humid Louisiana summers, tears trailed in rivulets from Fiona's heavy lidded eyes, not traveling too far before she swiped them away with her fingers. A piece of her heart cracked with each line of the song, and she pulled her black shawl tight around her shoulders as if to prevent the pieces from falling out of her chest. Even with Stevie close by, Fiona felt the blanket of loneliness smothering her, threatening to infiltrate every inch of her body.

_"Has anyone ever given anything to you in your darkest hours?  
Did you ever give it back?  
Well, I have, I have given that to you  
If it's all I ever do this is your song..."_

Fiona's head lolled against the back of the sofa, indifferent to the smudges of makeup she was leaving on the pristine surface as the tears continued to deluge her face. Another smear of her fingertips whisked away the moisture, and she tucked her hand under her cheek, gazing with a wistful sadness toward the piano and the angel who created such heart-wrenching harmony. Fiona felt the sofa depress behind her, but she didn't turn to see who it was, nor did she need to as the figure sidled close to her back so they could rest a palm on her thigh.

"This is one of your favorite songs," a voice whispered into Fiona's ear, drawing a shiver from her.

Myrtle sighed quietly, lifting her left arm so her fingertips could comb back the blonde locks from Fiona's eyes. She tucked a few strands behind the woman's ear, her hand then smoothing over her shoulder and downward to rest on the top of her thigh again. Her right arm draped across the back of the sofa and Myrtle scooted even closer so that she could feel Fiona's body pressed into her, her rear end nestled against Myrtle's lap.

"How can you even be comfortable like this?" Without waiting for a response, Myrtle slid her hand from the woman's thigh to her hip and gave a firm tug so Fiona rolled partially onto her lap, head turning on the sofa to look at the woman. "You've been crying," she said. "Good."

Fiona opened her mouth as if to respond to the seemingly snippy comment, her body tensing in the beginning stages of trying to extricate herself from the woman, but Myrtle interrupted within seconds.

"That means you _do_ have a soul." Craning her neck to bend down slightly, Myrtle touched her lips to Fiona's, savoring the rich taste of bourbon. Her left hand skimmed over Fiona's lap to her right hip, urging her closer. Fiona tried to deepen the kiss, giving a little flirtatious poke of her tongue on Myrtle's bottom lip, but the redhead pulled away just a few inches. "I'm not sure our guest would think kindly of this going too much further. And...I know you're still thinking about things."

"I already thought about things," Fiona whispered, reaching up with her right hand to cup the side of Myrtle's face and pull her back down for another kiss, crushing their lips together with a fierceness that came out of nowhere. She shoved her fingers into the voluminous wavy hair, clenching at the strands to keep Myrtle locked in place.

The kiss was slow and almost lazy, each of them trying to gain the upper hand with their tongues that clashed together. Still trying to maintain a sense of decorum, Myrtle pulled away once again, leaving a stream of kisses along the woman's jaw. "Do you remember when we heard this song live for the first time?" She smirked, fingers curling around Fiona's hip to toy with the protruding bone.

With a mysterious smile, Fiona nodded and raked her fingertips lightly against Myrtle's scalp. "I'll never forget that night."

Stevie smiled softly at the two women on the sofa and continued the song for a second time, not at all concerned with overstaying her welcome as her hands floated above the keys with perfection, her voice just as unmarred.

Guiding Myrtle's head close once more, Fiona pecked her lips on the side of the woman's jaw and then whispered just loud enough to be heard over the song. "Don't sleep downstairs tonight...my bed has enough room. We can talk about the good old days. After all, they're what made me realize that Cordelia and you are all that I have left. You both have been with me through everything, and so I want you to be with me until the end."

The irksome tears returned but Fiona blinked them away, gazing up at Myrtle as she held the side of the woman's head. That damn song got to her every time, but this time it resonated deeply with her as she faced her biggest fear of never finding immortality. But Myrtle and her infinite wisdom; what good would life everlasting be without her only daughter? Without Myrtle? As frayed as both relationships were, Fiona felt a spark of promise with Myrtle's affection. They had an undefinable relationship, a tumultuous friendship with sporadic bouts of passion. The undercurrent of it all was love, weaving between platonic and amorous, Fiona realized earlier that it made her feel _alive _to be involved in such a way, and she wanted to see how it would play out.

"Of course, darling," Myrtle whispered. She dusted a kiss to Fiona's forehead, settling in close to her once more, right arm draped behind Fiona's shoulders, and the left protectively crossed over Fiona's chest to grasp her shoulder in a warm hug. Fiona scooted against the woman, dropping her cheek to rest on Myrtle's chest as she folded her hands together on her lap. The moving melody continued, still performing its dance with the shadows from the flames of the candles in the darkened room.


End file.
